Trials of Tradition
by Periphereia
Summary: Emma has never thought of herself as a princess, but ever since she fell through a magical hat, the Tradition has been hell bent on showing her just how much of a princess she really is. Between going on Quests and being kidnapped by stupidly inept evil villains, Emma learns just what it means to be a princess of the Enchanted Forest. Eventual Captain Swan.
1. Chapter 1

**Trials of Tradition**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or Mercedes Lackey's Five Hundred Kingdoms series. You do not need to read any of the series to understand this story, but I recommend reading ****_The Fairy Godmother_****, ****_One Good Knight_****, and ****_Fortune's Fool _****to avoid spoilers. The others of the series should be a concept only grab, but characters from the above mentioned might pop up in dialogue or narrative.**

* * *

**A Very Short Prologue**

The Enchanted Forest was a well-known part of the world, at least to those who knew of the Tradition. The Godmothers and their apprentices have spent hours upon hours of their lives cursing that part of their world...

Well, not literally cursing it, because it - well, they were supposed to be the caretakers of the Tradition...and cursing a place was very wrong. Unfortunately for the five hundred kingdoms, the Enchanted Forest was the world's epicenter of Tradition.

There the Tradition was so powerful and so potent that instead of workable echoes of fate, the Tradition repeated its tales almost word for word, name for name. The difference, of course depended completely on how closely the new princes, princesses, shepherds, sorcerers, godmothers (_not _Godmothers), step-mothers, and witches all around fit into the roles assigned to them by the Tradition.

It did not help that the Enchanted Forest had no real Godmothers, just fairies, who _should_ have known of the Tradition, but didn't.

Without anyone to guide and counteract the power of the Tradition, more often than not, the lines of Traditional fate got tangled. When the Tradition folded in on itself, tangling and coiling around even just one person, an abundance of magic appears.

This was how Cora gained _her_ magic. This was why Rumpelstiltskin looked fondly upon Regina and amusedly at Zelena. This was how the manipulative Dark One created, empowered, and loop-holed his dark curse.

And how he knew to get Snow White's path to True Love to work in _his_ favor.

But even the Dark One did not know of the Tradition. He knew magic coiled around certain people, but not why. He knew how to use the magic of the Tradition, but thought of it only as magic, because it was always there in the forest and there was no way to use it all. He could use the Tradition to read the future, but never once has the Dark One learned of the Tradition. The Tradition would never allow it.

* * *

Once the dark curse was cast, the realm of the Five Hundred Kingdoms felt a new tension upon them. Although the Tradition began to gather more in other kingdoms, it was never as satisfied with the free reign it had in the Enchanted Forest.

And it did not help at all that the Lilac fairy began spreading practicality around like confetti. Especially when she started training Elena Klovis.

The Godmothers kept the Tradition satisfied in their kingdoms, so it let them be. However, it ached and mourned its forest and its princesses. There the Tradition was almost alive, and it wanted its people _back_.

So when one Snow White, now also Mary Margret and her daughter Emma returned to the Five Hundred Kingdoms (along with a wraith), the magic of the Tradition seized the two with a desperation not seen in its long, long history.

And that is how this story begins.

* * *

**Chapter One: A Traditional Quest**

A groan and an angry shriek disturbed the awakening of Princess Aurora. Phillip jerked up, glancing at his long term companion in confusion.

Taking off her helmet, Mulan, a most disciplined and cautious warrior, motioned for the prince to break his true love's curse. She would investigate.

She did not bother to remove her gauntlets as she began moving bits of stone, gloved hands would protect her from contact with most curses, and a good majority of things that could bite her. She uncovered a medallion that she recognizes instantly. "The mark of the Wraith," she whispered in fearful wonder.

She was tempted to keep it, to use as a weapon or just to keep it from someone with ill intentions, but a groan caught her attention.

A slab is pushed aside and a bleary eyed, strangely dressed blonde woman meets her eyes. "Be careful with that!" She warned instantly. "You didn't get marked did you?"

Mulan frowned. "No," she replied flatly. "I am unmarked. Who are you and why do you have such a dangerous object in your possession?"

"Emma?" A soft voice called through the rest of the rubble.

Green eyes widened in shock, "Mary Margret? What are you doing here?" The blonde, Emma asked. The real question swimming in her eyes was why._ 'Why would you, why would anyone risk their life just to follow after me?'_

"Did you really think I would let you come here alone?" The response was quick and sure. No doubt was present in the slightest, and Mulan was certain that whoever was speaking would go to the ends of the five hundred kingdoms for this Emma.

Still, as heartwarming as that was...

"How did you come to be here? And why do you have this?" She thrust the medallion towards the blonde, who quickly snatched it by the ribbons and stuffed it in a strange bag.

As the blonde unearthed her friend, she explained. "A...friend of mine got marked by that medallion. We were going to send it here, to another realm so it wouldn't be able to get her...but the portal opened too late...I fell through and I guess Mary Margret jumped in after me."

"And the medallion? Why send it through?" Mulan asked firmly.

Emma winced and looked away from her friend's shocked eyes. "Emma?"

"It was the bait," she responded guiltily. "Gold gave it to me after Belle found out what he did. Because Belle wanted me...us to save...our friend."

Mary Margret huffed. "You risked your life for _her_?"

The 'after all she's done to us?' was heavily implied. Mulan was easily forgotten in the midst of the budding fight. That was fine, she reasoned. It would let her observe.

Enough to learn if these two strangers were friends or foes.

"Because Henry asked me to!" Emma snapped, angry that Mary Margret was okay with fighting the Wraith by her side and jumping through a portal after her, so if they would do this for her, why _not_ Regina. _She_ may still hate Emma, but Emma _knew_ with every bit of her mangled and broken heart that Regina loved Henry. And that - "Henry loves her," she continued with a bit of resignation. "So I had to do everything I could."

Mary Margret looked abashed. "Next time," she began weakly. "Next time, please don't put yourself as the bait...without consulting me..._please_." She pulled Emma into a firm hug, hiding her almost tears in her daughter's golden hair.

Emma only nodded. "I'll try."

"Good," her firm tone was filled with promise.

It was at that precise moment that something ominous crawled against their skin. With a jolt, Emma was suddenly aware of Mulan's watching, of Philip and Aurora staring not at them, but at the sky, and of Mary Margret's grip tightening against her shoulder.

A presence began to build inside her winding and winding like a tight coil preparing to spring out. But instead it kept winding until it was painful. Emma had to _do_ something. She had to _be_ somewhere. Now. Now, now, now, NOW!

And it was almost no better for Mary Margret.

They collapsed on each other, with near identical looks of pain-under-pressure. They were Princesses with no happy ending, no Traditional happy ending. They _needed_ to be in the Tradition's care. They needed its guidance...and so did that warrior, but maybe not as much.

The Tradition began looking for the proper path to place its princesses in. Nothing came forward, but it would push and push until it found the right path.

"Did - did you _feel_ that?" Emma asked shakily, earning a nod from her mother. "We have to move or something. I - I feel like I need to be somewhere else."

Mulan grunted. "I am satisfied that you are not a threat to my company, but I cannot let you leave here as long as you carry that medallion."

Emma stared blankly at the warrior. "I'm not giving it to you or anyone else. As far as I'm concerned this medallion is my responsibility."

"As long as that Wraith is in this realm, that medallion is a danger and -" Mulan stopped. The Tradition decided on a path for the warrior, and temporarily for them all.

It seized Snow White, not Mary Margret, who in the face of the Tradition was slowly fading, not Snow, wife and mother, but Snow White, Princess of the Enchanted Forest (actually a queen, but as far as the Tradition was concerned she was a princess). It took hold of her and pushed. "Ch-champion Mulan," she spoke with a voice not her own, and Mulan stopped. She had not told the two her name. "You must - you must work with us to defeat this Wraith once and for all."

If not for Emma, she would have tumbled back into the rubble. It felt as if whatever had been coiling around them had eased slightly. It was a quest, and now, though they did not know it, the three women had fallen into the path of Questers. Inadvertently carving a new path for female Questers.

And Mulan had found she could not say no.

Literally, she tried at least three different times.

And Phillip and Aurora watched as Mulan turned to them and nodded. It was time for them to return to their people, Mulan would find them later. She promised.

* * *

They walked through the forest in silence. Emma could still feel the strange looming-ness of whatever had made Mary Margret go all weird. She kept sneaking glances at her...mother. Life, her life had gone six types of crazy, and now they were on some sort of journey or something for no other reason than they felt a pull. A need to move forward.

Not one of them knew _how_ to kill a Wraith, and before when she had asked Gold, he said they were unkillable.

But _something_ and taken a hold of her mother and forced its voice out of her. It said they had to kill the Wraith. They had to trust and work with Mulan.

And really? Mulan? Wasn't Mulan supposed to be a real person from her home? Why was she in this fairy tale land?

"Mary Margret?" Emma asked. "What was all that about? Before - I mean - do things like that just _happen_?"

"No," her voice a bit melancholy. "Nothing like that has ever happened before, at least not to me."

"Oh." So the weird and creepy just happened around Emma. Joy.

But something tugged at the edge of her mind. Emma was no Henry when it came to the real stories and fairy tales of the Enchanted Forest. She hadn't read the book, only glanced at a page or two when Henry was persistent, but something was important about those stories, stories in general, _something_ was there.

Emma didn't know the real stories, but she did grow up on Disney and other classics. In most of the indifferent homes she lived in, the TV was a free babysitter, and so they watched old movies, because it was that or the news.

That was why she felt an urge to look, really _look_ for things she just _knew_ would show up. Maybe it was an old lady they had to be nice to or some kind of animal that needed help. They were on a quest, right? That's what happened in the stories...but then again, this wasn't _that_ kind of quest...

"How are we supposed to kill this Wraith anyways?" She asked suddenly and blinked when she realized she had.

Mulan and Mary Margret heard a twittering trill in the distance and a rumbling hoot to their right. Emma, who had the (un)fortunate chance of tasting dragon's blood heard something else.

Now, while Maleficent could sometimes be a person, Gina the dragon, Champion of Glass Mountain, would tell you a dragon is a dragon, whether they were born a dragon or not is very much unimportant.

"You can't kill such a thing," Emma heard the answer clear as day. She shifted anxiously and _looked_. A regally posed tawny owl blinked at her. "Oh, you can hear me?" It - _she_ asked, amused.

"Um, yes ma'am?" Emma replied hesitantly.

The others glanced back at her, confused. "Who are you talking to, Emma?"

The owl tilted her head and clicked its beak. "Have you anything to eat, dear? It's rather Traditional for me to ask."

Emma ignored her mother's fussing and Mulan's wary glances. This was important. She ransacked her pockets and winced. All she had was a packet of saltine crackers that _maybe_ survived the trip through the portal.

She pulled it open and blinked. _'What the hell?'_ The crackers were perfectly intact, like _perfectly_ intact, no crumbs whatsoever...then again, what was she _doing_ with crackers in the first place?

"Sorry, um," Emma held them out awkwardly. "It's all I have."

The owl flew to her arm and snapped them up. "Oh yes, I like these. They're very _new_. And they're salted." As luck would have it, they were also not stale.

"Emma!" Mary Margret gasped. "That's - _you're talking to an owl_!"

"Is that strange?" Emma asked quite honestly. _'I mean Disney princesses talked to animals _all _the time...'_

"Of course it's strange! Emma people _can't_ understand animals," she was very adamant about this.

Mulan agreed. "It is very strange. I have never seen anyone uncursed actually talk to a creature of any kind." And it was heavily implied that those creatures did _not_ talk back.

Emma looked at the amused owl on her arm. "Then how come I can hear you?" She nearly whispered. Emma was usually a skeptic, about _everything_, but just yesterday she got a very real, very big dose of holy-shit-magic-is-real and I-just-killed-a-fucking-dragon, so at this point, talking to animals was believable enough that she just went with it.

"Well, for one thing, princess," the owl began almost fondly. "I am a Wise One. You may call me Tawny. I prefer that over the Traditional title of Owl. If none of you had been able to understand me of your own right, the Tradition would have seen to it that I would have enough power to speak to you all."

There was a pause and Tawny puffed up her feathers and waited. Emma quickly translated. "The reason you are able to understand me is simple. Sometime in your past you have tasted dragon's blood."

That made Mulan's eyes widen and Mary Margret nearly hysterical. "You faced a _dragon_?"

Emma shrugged. "It was - Gold tricked me into it...I don't really remember much of the fight, I think I got really lucky, but I _do_ remember swallowing the blood."

"Eww. Really, Emma?" Mary Margret wrinkled her nose.

Emma shuddered. "It was way worse than you can possibly imagine. I almost threw up three times after getting Gold's potion thing, but if I started that - well I didn't really have much time..."

"It's a good thing you _didn't_ expel the blood," Tawny informed them plainly. "A taste gives you a temporary effect, but a full drink, well you will forever be able to understand all creatures, and your other human languages will come to you much more easily."

Emma made a face. "That doesn't make the memory any less awful." Well, at least it made sense...in a weird fairy tale sort of way.

"Of course not," Tawny crooned, "but it is Traditional that helpful things are to be unpleasant just as harmful things are to be more than pleasant." And she meant so fucking tempting you abandon all common sense and get yourself cursed.

"Hold on," Mary Margret called out stubbornly. "What is all this talk about tradition? Why are you making it sound so important?"

The owl fluttered from Emma's arm to her shoulder. "The Tradition is important," she warned gravely. "The Tradition is the force that guides the fate of the kingdoms."

"We write our own fate," Mary Margret spoke defiantly. "I know that more than anyone."

Mulan looked intrigued, but her mind was not one that forgot purpose easily. "This is all very interesting, but I need to get back to Aurora and Phillip. How do we kill the Wraith?"

"Quite plainly, you can't," Tawny replied. "Even only a Champion has only a chance to imprison a Wraith. Only a Child of Prophecy can actually kill one."

Emma sighed, "So, if we can't _kill _a Wraith, how do we defeat one?"

Tawny's eyes danced with pride. And as she began to explain, they continued to walk, blindly following the path the Tradition laid out for them...even if only one of them truly believed.

* * *

It was Snow's turn to worry. If the furtive glances at Emma and the owl meant Snow was questioning Emma's sanity, well no one needed to know. Because in all honesty, Snow had never heard of anyone talking to animals, or maybe it was the talking back part that freaked her out.

If it weren't for the fact that the owl, Tawny actually looked like she was talking, Snow would have forced Emma to sleep off whatever madness she had caught from their fall through the hat.

But then Tawny mentioned a dragon.

And then Emma confirmed she had recently killed a dragon.

That was _not_ okay with Snow. Emma should have never been _near_ a dragon, ever! It was not okay! And neither was that owl saying something, some tradition controlled fate.

Snow fought hard for her life. She fought against fate with every breath. How dare that...that owl suggest it was all planned! Regina made her choices. Charming made his and she made her own.

That owl might know how to get rid of the Wraith that the whatever-magic-thing commanded them to defeat, but _she_ wasn't just going to believe in anything but herself and Emma. _They_ would write their _own_ fate, not some faceless _Tradition_.

* * *

Far away, in what looked to be a small cottage in the woods, a mirror-servant by the name of Randolf began calling for the Godmother who lived there.

A young woman with a kind smile and long golden locks walked through the door at a brisk pace. Her shoulders were squared, prepared for a conference with anyone. Her work-hard hands smoothed down the practical pale rose dress and reached through a slit in her dress for her day wand.

"Godmother!" He greeted in relief as she pushed aside his mirror's curtain. "There is something I need to show you." The servant's face was handsome, even in his green-colored tones. His hands were only inches from his chin, being nervously wrung again and again. It was all she could see of him, all anyone could see of any mirror-servant or slave.

"What is it Randolf?" The Godmother asked swiftly. "An emergency? Or just another Godmother looking for some dragon's blood?"

"Closer to an emergency, I'm afraid," the mirror replied, and without further preamble, he displayed a worrisome scene.

"Where is this?" She snapped hurriedly. She had an inkling, one she did not want to be true.

"The Enchanted Forest," Randolf replied gravely. "Currently Dark One free, if it helps." He knew it was the one answer she did not want. It meant that someone would have to go there and make contact.

Briefly the Godmother wondered if she should send someone else, she was currently in charge of the Champion's Guild and Godmother communications. Not to mention her own kingdoms which had grown from her first seven to fifteen, maybe even more if she could not get the soon-to-be Cardinal Fairy trained up quickly enough.

But no, no one else would want to go either, well...at least no one competent. She sighed. "It would be easier to ask someone to substitute for me," she told Randolf. "Maybe...Klava could use the practice?"

"She has grasped Godmothering almost as quickly as you did," Randolf remarked fondly. "She'll take proper care of your kingdoms for the week or so you'll be absent."

"Week?" She asked with just a hint of relief. "Are you sure?"

"Not as sure as wish I could be," Randolf informed her, "but definitely no more than a month. A Wise Beast is guiding them, all you need to do is teach them magic, especially the Champion."

With a small sigh of relief, the Godmother stood. Preparations needed to be made, potions first, some disguises, some dragon's blood for the Champion...and some wine to wash it down...

"Oh, and Elena, perhaps you should make it a family affair," Randolf called out as she left.

* * *

**A/N: Let me know what needs more explanation so I can weave it into the story. For those wondering why Tawny calls herself a 'Wise One' over a 'Wise Beast,' well, who wants to call themselves a beast? Maybe a wolf or a bear, but certainly not an owl.**

**Review if you'd like.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Trails of Tradition**

**Chapter Two: An Open Mind**

She couldn't explain why she had acted as she did, and it seemed Mary Margret did not accept that explanation at all. Emma simply had a feeling, a strong winding pull that shaped her words and actions without her notice. It was the kind of thing that she would have called instinct, except she very well knew it _wasn't_.

Emma had simply followed the prompts in her head. As if she were reciting a script she had learned long ago. It wasn't trust or belief or anything more than that, at least, not at first.

She had spent the hours they traveled quizzing the supposed 'Wise One' on everything she could think of. It ranged from foods owl's enjoyed to nestlings and mates. Emma had asked Tawny to lie to her on occasion while the owl told her tales, and Emma was surprised to learn her super-power worked on the owl just as well as it had on anyone else.

And other than her requested falsehoods, the owl hadn't lied to her. Tawny truly believed in what she was saying, and even more, the owl was completely convinced that a greater force existed in this realm called the Tradition.

Mary Margret simply denied the possibility entirely. To her, if there had been any force that pushed her fate it had to have been Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, not this previously unknown, never-heard-of Tradition. Emma wanted to believe her mother, she really did, but lack of proof was no longer equal to non-existence, not since she had used that excuse for Henry's curse, and had proved to her desperately doubtful self very, _very_ wrong.

And that set a just reason to at least _listen _to the owl.

Maybe Mary Margret was stubborn. Emma had to have gotten that from somewhere, right?

Right, well _she_ didn't need much more to believe in the Tradition. If Mary Margret would listen, she'd have all the proof she needed. After all, _something_ had literally _used_ Mary Margret to _force_ the three of them on a quest to destroy a Wraith. _Something _had started them moving...whichever way they were moving...without even knowing anything about where or why they were going...

And lastly, perhaps even most importantly, Emma had talked to an owl and it talked back. While they were on a _quest_.

If that wasn't enough, well she had a feeling more proof would come soon.

* * *

By some 'twist of fate' the three women and owl stumbled upon a cabin in the woods. It was empty of people, and had been for twenty-eight years. It was not empty of weapons. In fact, hanging on the wall was a finely made bow perfect for Snow White, and plenty of arrows fit snugly in its accompanying quiver.

_Surprise_, surprise there were also a few daggers ineptly hidden along the shelves and an old, but well cared for sword hanging atop the fireplace.

It was all very convenient and it just allowed Emma to believe in the Tradition that much more.

(All of which probably belonged to a kindly old widow and her young son, who would have, if not for the curse, taken his father's sword and saved some kingdom and married a princess.)

Emma didn't bother questioning the Tradition's way of arming them. She simply took the daggers and stowed them away with ease, grabbed the sword and hung it on her hip, and thrust the quiver and bow into her mother's shocked hands. All while Tawny looked on with knowing amusement.

Mary Margret looked on warily. "Are you sure we should just take these?" She asked slowly.

"We need them, and they're here," Emma explained. "So yes, we should take them. The food, not so much."

Nodding, Mulan looked at the moldy porridge, very, very moldy porridge set at the table. "Obviously who ever lived here was taken by the curse. They won't need the weapons, but you do. Take this as the blessing it is."

"It's just too convenient," she huffed.

_'It's the Tradition helping us,' _she wanted to say, but then Emma saw the look on her mother's face and bit her tongue. She knew exactly why Mary Margret refused to believe in the Tradition, even if she was wrong.

In fact it was the same reason she had dismissed Henry's curse as a simple boyhood fantasy. Mary Mar- no Snow White had grown up in the Enchanted Forest without knowing about the Tradition. Just as Emma grew up in a magicless world without really believing in the possibility of magic. They were adults, and they believed they knew everything their worlds had to offer them and it shouldn't change.

And they were very stubborn about it. She shouldn't, _couldn't_ forget that.

Even if just yesterday Emma's world view had shattered and now she was trying to put the pieces back together with an open mind. Well, a slightly less closed off and set mind.

Emma was only open to listening, _learning_ because she needed to be. Snow White wasn't because _she_ was _home_.

Home, the thought of that single word wretched in her gut. She had never really had a place to call home, not until Henry brought her to Storybrooke. She should be working on a way to get back to him, and her father...and probably the town.

She turned away from her mother and looked outside. Emma noticed the shadows growing longer, she wondered if it was safe to stay in the cabin. With so little people left behind by the curse it should have been a no brainer, but it would be better to ask someone who would really know...

"Do you think it'd be okay if we stayed here for the night?" She asked Mulan. "I mean no one lives here anymore and it is going to be dark soon."

Mulan nodded at Tawny, "What does the bird say?"

The owl huffed at being called a bird. She was more than a simple bird. "It is up to you. Traditionally you wouldn't want to, as the occupant would be returning at dusk and put you to work or something, but the curse has skewed things enough so that nothing should disturb you."

"I still don't believe it, I don't believe _you_," she muttered with a tinge of jealousy. "If the Tradition existed, why haven't I heard of it? The fairies should have told us!"

"This again?" Emma whined.

"Yes, Emma, this again," Snow snapped. "I can't believe you! You, who has walls so high you barely trust me with small glimpses of your heart, you're just trusting everything this owl is telling you!"

She wasn't. Emma wasn't _trusting_ Tawny. She was believing her, because so far the owl had not lied. Sure, her truest most basic instinct told her to _trust_ and _listen_, but she knew better. Emma needed to trust in her lie detector to help her learn and survive.

The owl truly believed the Tradition was a real thing. Emma decided not to completely dismiss it.

That was all!

Tawny jumped off her shoulder and took a perch on one of the chairs. She pulled herself up straight and puffed out her chest. Tawny took no offense, which filled Emma with relief.

Because to her knowledge, ignoring an animal on a quest was stupid. _Offending_ the one trying to help you led to your doom.

Then Tawny spoke directly to all of them. "No being in the Enchanted Forest, nor in any of its minor kingdoms was allowed to know of the Tradition as long as the Dark One walked upon its sovereignty," Tawny's voice was forced and heavy with warning. "The Dark One is to never learn of the Tradition."

It must have been actually hearing the _wise-ness_ of Tawny's voice, but for the first time since they met, Snow actually stopped to listen. "Then you aren't from the Forest?"

"I am," Tawny spoke dismissively, once again through Emma. "I've only awakened recently, but the soul of a Wise One is always connected to the Tradition."

There was a break in conversation, as they decided to settle in for the night. While Snow and Mulan went out to hunt for dinner, Emma tried to figure out how to work with the Enchanted Forest's less modern equipment.

She managed to get a fire going easily enough, although she did have Tawny check to see if anything nested in the chimney first. The table was cleaned off with nearby well water and set with clean plates and cutlery. The sun had reached the horizon and the forest was quiet.

Emma frowned. The forest was eerily quiet.

* * *

She paced in her stillroom with resigned practicality. She was prepared, she knew it. She usually was. Elena the Rose Fairy was perhaps most well known for her preparedness. She almost always had enough magic for the great works, because she rarely _used_ any of her magic for needless things.

She was prepared, and she was stalling. She had sent out missives to many other Godmothers about her journey, in reply she got many a "good luck," and plenty of dismissive approval. So now Elena _had_ to go, because, as predicted, not one Godmother volunteered.

A sigh escaped her lips, but she said nothing. The pull of the Tradition was weak, something she could easily ignore, but Randolf had premonitions very rarely, and the last time he had premonitory _feelings_, he forged a path for her to be with Alexander.

"A family affair, huh?" She muttered with a small laugh. Maybe it would be better is her husband was at her side, but why would the mirror-servant want Elena to take her daughter?

Well, it's not like the Tradition had any interest in the child of a Godmother and her Champion. No roles for them to follow in the slightest. Her Celeste would be able to live as simply or grandly as she chose, so why in the world would she risk taking her two year old?

Then again, her daughter _was_ the reason she was still stalling. And she could hardly survive a night away from her little fairy, she couldn't bear a month, even if she had complete faith in Lily's tending.

With a sigh, she gathered her things and went to find her family. It was time for a trip to the Enchanted Forest.

* * *

A loud call of a horse drifted through the Enchanted Forest. It was followed by a sharp, happy giggle and the creaking of an old carriage. Emma looked out past the stretching shadows of the tall trees, squinting and stretching her vision, and yet saw nothing.

Then she looked up.

An elegant black stallion, draped in a gold and rose colored harness, pulled an opalescent white and gold carriage through the sky. The horse lacked wings of any kind, and there didn't seem to be a driver.

Faced with this, Emma could only gape. Seriously, she thought she was okay with magic already, then shit like this happens.

"Oh this is strange," Tawny spoke with a twist of her head. "I'll go take a peek at who's inside!"

Before Emma could stop her, Tawny was flying away, and within minutes of the owl's departure, the carriage descended onto the cottage path.

Emma shifted uncertainly, her fingers tracing her gun. She trusted Tawny enough not to fall into sheriff-mode, but it never hurt to be cautious. The carriage door opened and Tawny flew out quickly.

Landing on Emma's shoulder, she said, "Be courteous, this is a Fairy Godmother from one of the other kingdoms." As soon as she finished her warning, a man stepped out of the carriage.

He had long, dark hair, probably brown, that he wore just above his shoulders. The man was clean-shaven with a hard jaw that gave way to a soft smile. His attire lacked any hint of shiny baubles or ostentatious ornamentations which let Emma breathe that much easier. She didn't really know what to do with nobility or royals in her world, how would have to behave if she met one of those types _here_?

Noticing Emma, he gave her the tiniest of bows, and turned to offer his hand to the remaining passengers.

A nicely dressed young woman disembarked without fanfare, keeping hold of a sleepy toddler. "Ah, hello," she greeted warmly, handing her girl to the man. "I am Godmother Elena, the Rose Fairy. This is my husband Champion Alexander, Grand Master of the Order of Glass Mountain, and our daughter Celeste. And this fellow is Nightsong," she patted the stallion without really looking at him, and smiled. "We've come to teach."

"I'm Emma Swan," she spoke in forced calm. "Would you like to come inside?" Elena nodded and allowed Emma to lead the way in. "I'm sorry I can't offer any food, my companions haven't come back with any yet."

Alexander grinned, "Don't be so nervous. Elena isn't one to just curse people."

That remark brought a smile to the Godmother's face, it was fondly far away and only highlighted her beauty. "I've brought some provisions, don't you worry. One of the things Godmothers do is prepare food for the deserving, usually in disguise, but I'm not here to guide you."

Elena began throwing her magic about with little care. The Tradition was so thick in this kingdom that she supposed sorcerers probably didn't bother going through the rituals to sense magic and just used it.

"So," Emma began uneasily. The sight of magic disturbed her greatly. She had accepted it existed, but so far all the magic she had experienced had been bad, dark, _evil_. This? This magic was different. "You said you came here to teach. Teach what exactly?"

Celeste babbled sleepily against her father's soft cloak, and Elena conjured a crib to put her in. "One of your companions is a Champion, a born Champion who has been recognized by the Tradition," Alexander spoke softly. "I'm here to teach her the skills of a Champion. The magic part of it."

"Oh yes, and we've brought some dragon's blood for her. Champions are required to help anyone that asks," Elena explained. "It helps if they understand what they are asked."

"Is there enough for two?" Emma asked, wanting to stop being Tawny's translator.

"There is," the Godmother replied slowly, "but you don't _need_ it, and I do not recommend it at all. Dragon's blood is very nasty."

"It's not for her," Tawny fluttered her wings. "Princess Emma has already tasted dragon's blood."

Alexander and Elena shared a look. "Princess?"

"Only technically," Emma replied sourly. "I wasn't raised as one." Her tone clearly told them just how much she did _not_ want to talk about it.

"A _lost_ _princess_...well, that complicates things."

Snow White and Mulan returned to the cottage shortly after the sun had set. The two of them had a small string of herbs, rabbits and squirrels. It was more than enough for the three of them, and Mulan was grateful for her companion's skill with a bow and knowledge of the forest. They had started towards friendship, and that was why when they saw the beautiful carriage outside the cottage they sprinted for the door.

"Emma!" Snow White called out, her bow at the ready.

"Whoa," Emma responded quickly as Celeste broke out a whimper. "Mary Margret, calm down."

Snow pulled up her best queenly demeanor and asked, "Emma, who are these people?"

"Well, you know how Tawny said someone would show up by dark?" Emma laughed nervously. "Surprise."

"Manners," Tawny warned.

"Right," Emma agreed instantly. The introductions were awkward, as Emma stuttered over what to call her mother. Instinctively, she used Mary Margret, but when it came to actually introducing her, she didn't _know_. "This is Godmother Elena and her husband Champion Alexander. Godmother, this is Mulan, the...um...Champion, and my mother..."

"Snow White," Emma's mother supplied easily. "I'd prefer if you called me Snow." Her tone was soft, and Emma realized she spoke to her, and not the others.

Emma also realized the 'but I really want to be called mom,' had been crushed under the weight of not-pushing the relationship.

It was then that a strangely reverent tone graced one so usually serious. "_You're_ Snow White?" Mulan asked startling the two year old awake.

There was a rush of movement. Elena swept up her daughter and began to hum, as she never sang unless she needed something. Snow looked on longingly at the mother-daughter bonding and glanced at Emma with a painful apology.

The whole thing made Emma uncomfortable, so instead she answered. "Yes, she's Snow White, I'm her daughter, the Savior, with a capital 'S.'" Her tone was sardonically petulant, which earned her a small smile from her mother...although that just might have been the acknowledgement of being her daughter.

"My apologies," Mulan bowed, "I have been treating you unfairly."

"Tell the silly one to get up," Tawny told Alexander privately. She turned to Emma and continued. "Also you might want to work on dinner. The Godmother seems occupied."

"I'll get dinner ready," Snow promised, and was absolutely delighted when Emma volunteered to help.

After dinner was settled and Celeste was once again abed, Elena pulled out a vail of a menacingly viscous fluid that she proclaimed to be dragon's blood. She, at both Emma's and Snow's request, divided the blood evenly in to two of their borrowed glasses.

Alexander prepared two glasses other of very tart, very pungent wine with a wince. Elena watched with a learned detachment as the two brunettes downed their blood just as she told them to.

"Toss it back and swallow. _Don't_ spit it out."

Emma shuddered at the expressions on their faces. _They_ got to wash away the taste with something other than suppressed bile. _She_ remembered the vehemently violent urge to expel the blood that coursed through her entire body, causing _so_ much pain as she squashed it down. Knowing that if she started throwing up, she wouldn't be able to stop.

It was unpleasant and painful, even as just a memory.

Once that was all over, Elena announced she and Alexander would begin teaching them tomorrow, and they would have to discuss what Emma's role in all this would be. "But for now, let us sleep."

* * *

Snow couldn't sleep. Something had been bothering her since the owl had actually spoke to her. She needed to know, why the fairies didn't know of the Tradition, how this owl did, why her and not someone else.

She approached the owl, who vigilantly watched over Emma.

"What did you mean? By awaken?" Snow asked once she was sure her daughter was sound asleep.

Tawny blinked, before remembering their earlier conversation. Then she nodded, "One night I was just an owl, no brighter than the rest of my kin. I hunted and ate and slept until dusk. I was flying over a moonlit field in search of a stray mouse when something washed over me and I just knew.

"It was hard to keep flying for quite some time. Memories and ideas not my own settled inside my skull. I could barely see enough to land. Then I slept until dawn," there was a hint of disgruntlement. "Now I wake in the morn and sleep at night. I can no longer hunt properly, but that is the sacrifice of a Wise One."

"So it wasn't something like the dragon's blood? Just random?" Snow inquired.

"Yes, it was very much by chance," Tawny replied. "You still have trouble believing. You accept it, but do not believe."

Snow sighed. "It's just. I _know_ the Dark One. And I know you said he shouldn't ever learn of the Tradition, but for all my life he and the Blue fairy have been the best people to turn to when magic is involved."

"That does not change," Tawny supplied. "Magic and the Tradition are not the same. Yes, Godmothers and Wizards, Sorcerers and many others use the Tradition as a source of magic, but others can use the magic of the earth or of themselves."

"Like fairy dust?" Snow asked with a small smile.

Tawny nodded. "Just like. Magic can take a mage through many different paths, the Tradition is just the one that is the most common." The owl paused and stared straight into Snow White's eyes. "There is one more thing. When I said the Tradition guides the fate of kingdoms, you mistook my words to mean the Tradition is fate itself."

Snow hesitated, "Was I wrong?"

"Very much so," Tawny agreed. "The Tradition does not write the fate of every child born. It only guides the fates of those special few who will one day guide the kingdom.

"The Tradition cares nothing for the lives effected by its dogged nature. It only pushes its pets, its pawns until it finds the right 'happily ever after.' Because stories are lessons that need to be learned, and what better way to teach the people than to make them live the stories themselves."

"So let there be a wise and humble king and a kind and honest queen to guide their kingdom into an age of peace and prosperity," Snow recited softly.

"Exactly that," Tawny crooned wearily. "Exactly that."

Snow stood up and bowed slightly. "Thank you for helping me understand. May I ask why the Tradition does not want the Dark One to learn of it?"

Tawny turned away. "No matter how human the Dark One's host may be now, one day he will fall and the Dark One will be reborn in another." Again, her amber eyes locked on Snow's, and her voice grew to barely a whisper. "The Dark One retains all knowledge learned in all lives, and for the first few decades in its new host, it is firmly in control. If it learns of the Tradition, it will never forget. And the Dark One, will twist the Tradition to cause misery, because that is where it gains the most power."

She let the words wash over her and finally allowed herself to understand. This knowledge was dangerous, but it was real. Or at least real enough that a family traveled so far from home just to meet with them.

To teach them.

With a new resolve and understanding set in her mind, Snow found enough peace to fall asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this is not my best work, but it's what I had to do to make everything fit. I think this crossover is perfect, but I'm not the best at juggling the ways of two worlds.**

**Let me know what you liked and what you didn't! Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Trails of Tradition**

**Chapter Three: The Heart Hopes Again**

Something brushed against her cheek. It's light skittering touch foreign and alarming. Her hand brushed it away and sighed, it was only her hair. She stopped, forcing herself awake, and screamed out in shock, "What happened to my hair?"

A muffled thump announced Emma rolling off the small cot next to the window. "Unguh," she mumbled grouchily. "What's with all the yelling?" She looked up to see Snow holding her hair, which was thirteen to fifteen inches longer than it was last night. "What the _hell_?" Emma hissed.

"I don't know!" Snow cried. "I was just getting used to it being short!" And truthfully, it felt rather nice not to mind her hair when she was shooting.

A cough brought their attention to the door, where nearly everyone else it the cabin stood in a mix of confusion and amusement.

* * *

As Alexander took Mulan for training, Elena took the princesses to the kitchen.

"So you're saying that the Tradition made my hair grow?" Snow asked, clearly affronted. The longer she thought about the more she missed the shortness! It wasn't fair at all.

Elena nodded. "Princesses _always_ have long, beautiful hair. It's more _poetic_ that way."

"Why can't I just cut it?" Snow asked petulantly. "It's my hair."

"Well, you could, of course," Elena agreed with an amused smile, "but there's always a chance it will grow back...maybe even longer! Just be glad it's not ladderlocks length."

"Ladderlocks?" Emma asked.

"Ah! I believe you call them Rapunzel," Elena waved. "But when you have five hundred kingdoms with new questing age princes and heroes every year, well...not every evil witch, whose garden was broken into for out of season fruits and/or vegetables, names their ill-gotten daughter Rapunzel."

"So you call them ladderlocks?" Emma asked.

Snow asked another question, "That happens?"

"Yes and yes," Elena replied sadly. "That particular path tends to be popular for sorceresses and witches. It kills and disfigures many a prince, but that's how they get more magic. I try to keep that path out of _my_ kingdoms, and I'm proud to say I've been rather successful."

And so, Snow grudgingly accepted her new hair, not wanting to risk it growing back longer. She did however, take a motherly peek at Emma's hair, noting that even though they had traveled through the forest and slept without bothering to comb or wash their hair, it looked pristine...and a tad more _golden_ than usual.

* * *

Outside the cabin, a conversation of swords took precedent. The sharp clang of meeting blades echoed though the clearing. Alexander's perfect swings tested Mulan's battle-honed skills. Champion instincts flared, and respect was mutual.

Not one word would be uttered.

* * *

Back inside the cabin, the Godmother was examining the two royals with her magical perception, in this case, seeing magic. "The Tradition favors you, Snow," she informed them neutrally. "The good thing is, your path is mostly complete. Emma on the other hand..."

Snow's hand clenched. "What? Hasn't she done enough?" She didn't really know what would come next, but so far all this Tradition talk had put up _bad_ stories. Awful tales filled with danger and hardship. Suffering! Not Emma! Not when she could _remember_ now.

The princess in question frowned slightly, unsure what to feel at _that._

"Emma...well I'm not too sure where your path will lead," Elena sighed, picking up her toddler. "You see the Tradition seems to be all around you, but aside from this Quest, I can't see it actually _doing_ anything to you." Celeste played with some of her mother's hair, blissfully ignoring the conversation around her. "It would help if I knew your story," the Godmother decided.

Now _that_ made Emma not-okay. She was fine with the magic thing. She actually liked the talking owl...but her past! No. Way.

Seeing her daughter close herself off nearly shattered her. Snow didn't like her past much either, but she had gotten her happy ending...sort of, and Snow could look back and say that her life wasn't terrible.

Snow suffered, but she gained friends and allies and True Love! Emma, Emma had that too, she just - it just wasn't _hers_. Not anymore.

And it hurt her. It hurt her because it hurt Emma.

And maybe she needed to share her tale, because it was Emma's too. Emma's history, and maybe she would see she was _not_ alone.

* * *

Emma sat numbly as she listened to Mary - no. Snow. As she listened to Snow recount her life. She learned a lot about herself and her mother. Apparently a life of thievery and running was hereditary - not that Mary Mar - _Snow_ needed to know that.

There were lots of things that she had forgotten. Surely Henry had told her all this a long time ago...Henry...she hoped he was okay...

Snow had gotten to the part of her birth. They day the curse was cast, and _wow_ she could not even _think_ of what it had been like without at least a uh...what did they call it? Oh! Midwife...

And then...and then Emma really _understood_.

Because their only choice was Emma alone in a strange world or Emma _dead_. Or maybe even something worse.

Who knows what Regina would have done? Sure she raised Henry and _loved him_, but that was after 17-18 years or so of loneliness...you know, after she got bored with everyone's suffering... And, even after all that she hurt him. What would she have done to _Emma_? When she wasn't so desperate? When Regina was filled with the high of her victory and the pain of her sacrifice?

And the decision agonized Snow. So much that even now, she could feel the waves of guilt rolling off her mother.

Emma reached over and squeezed her hand.

Yeah. It would be okay...but she was _not_ telling them about _Neal_...and probably not too much of the thief stuff either...

* * *

Elena took it all in and sighed. Whatever the Dark One had done definitely screwed up Emma's path, not to mention her life. "I guess it's exactly like my story. You were meant to find love around here somewhere, but all your potential candidates are too old or too young...probably both. The Tradition is against a great age disparity...at least physically...I think Godmother Lily and her husband are a few hundred years apart, but they're both...and many of the Beauty Asleep paths have their princess in a preserved sleep...

"Anyway, the prince that I should have married, Tradition willing, was barely eleven to my twenty-one. As an Ella Cinders I'd be much too old to go to a ball and fall in love. Hmm yes, so I escaped my 'evil step-mother' by becoming a Godmother instead..." Elena finished with a happy smile. "I was saved and apprenticed to my kingdom's Godmother. Ambivalent as the Tradition may be, Godmothers do prefer happy endings."

Emma shared a smile with her mother.

"So what does that mean?" Emma asked.

Elena clapped her hands. "Why Godmother training, of course!"

"So she'll escape the Tradition?" Snow asked.

The Godmother's smile faltered. "No. If you lived in one of the kingdoms where the Tradition was thinnest, all I would have to do was take the magic off of you. However, the Tradition is very thick around here...it would just come back." Elena patted her daughter's head. "Not even a Godmother can escape the Tradition. We just know how to lead it to the right path." She smiled, glancing at her husband through window. "Writing new paths. That's what being a Godmother is really about."

* * *

Tawny swept through the forest, looking for her next meal. Being diurnal had messed up her diet a slight more than she liked, but food was food. And food always tasted better fresh.

She had long shed her instinctual desire to keep and protect her territory, so the her prey did not suspect her sharp talons snatching them up. In all honesty, Tawny felt cheated. The hunt was not sporting enough anymore.

She swallowed her catch without remorse, a small squirrel, probably kin of last night's meal. Taking flight once more, she set off to find something with more girth for her humans. Perhaps a rabbit?

That brown one looked rather plump...and male! Always sporting to avoid females, lest the prey all die off. She swooped down, and with a sharp snap, she took off once more. Tonight's dinner in her claws.

She dropped her catch on the window sill, careful not to tear its skin. "I'm back!" She announced cheerfully. "And I've brought something for the stew." She liked stew...or at least the past Wise Owls liked stew...well no matter, she would see for herself soon enough.

"Thank you," Elena nodded. "We were just discussing a few eccentricities of the Tradition. Specifically love in relation to Emma."

"And I said you don't have to worry, I don't plan on falling in love anytime soon," Emma huffed.

Tawny tilted her head. "All the more reason for the conversation. The Tradition has small quirks in its system that mimic true love. Those who are in the Tradition's sight tend to find love if they aren't careful." She puffed out her chest.

Elena nodded. "True love always trumps the Tradition, but true love is rather rare and requires a lot of searching. Traditional love isn't an uncontrollable force. If you truly dislike someone or are simply incompatible, the Tradition can't change that," she assured them quickly, "It simply starts the process.

"In one of my kingdoms, the Tradition is so thick that the princess - my sister-in-law actually - well, before her marriage, she would have fallen in love with anyone who rescued her...I am unsure if you would be affected in a similar way, as she was rather young and naive."

"And Emma's not," Snow stated bluntly.

"Exactly. However, the possibility exists, and for Godmothers, witches and sorceresses in particular, there are a few types that we are vulnerable to," Elena began. "The Rogue, the Cad, the Seducer and the Betrayer." Emma flinched and her breath hitched. Lucky for her no one had noticed. "Now most of these paths are rather similar, and they have absolutely _nothing_ to do with the man's true personality. These are simply Traditional roles that can take over a relationship and turn it sour."

"What does that mean?" Snow asked.

"Well, there are people who fit the roles more naturally than others. However, most Godmothers don't fall in love to satisfy the Tradition," Elena began. "When any Witch, Godmother or Sorceress falls in love, there is a _potential_ that the Tradition can use. It can take a perfectly nice young man and twist him to fit a role..."

She wanted the conversation to stop now. Of course, it didn't, and her emotions just seemed to get harder and harder to control. Snow took Emma's hand and unclenched it. Emma didn't notice the soft squeeze or the warmth from her mother's hand.

Tawny clicked her beak, watching Emma curiously. "Relationships are always hard work. At least that is what I have learned through my many incarnations. For mage-kin it is more so."

It didn't stop and she had to wonder, had the Tradition played a role in her life? No. The Tradition...it felt recent...everything, her past - just a coincidence. A stupid, life-ruining coincidence.

"Yes, and for us who work in magic, emotion plays a large part. A broken heart can turn the kindest person into the cruelest villain," she paused and took in Emma's ashen face and glassy eyes.

Snow was drifting between anger and worry. It had been blatantly obvious Emma had not wanted this conversation to even start, but this? Who the hell did this to her daughter and when could she shove her bow up his sorry ass!

"Emma," she called out softly.

"Y-you don't have to worry about me okay?" She forced out. "I'm well aware about the kind of people out there..." She took in a deep breath and steeled her resolve. "I'm not afraid -" she stopped herself. "It's okay. I know I'm not meant to find true love."

Her smile was watery and this was the most vulnerable Snow had ever seen her. "Nonsense," she said firmly, pulling her daughter into the fiercest hug she could muster. "You listen to me Emma Swan. You are meant to find true love! No, one day true love will find you. You'll deny it, you'll run away from it, you might even bash him in the head a time or two, but you will find _true love_ and Tradition or not you'll be happy. Understand?"

Emma _didn't cry_, but she did allow herself to melt into the hug. "This never gets to Henry," she mumbled. Then as an afterthought she added, "or David."

Neither had noticed they were alone, and Emma finally told someone about her time with Neal. She talked and cried and she didn't stop until the warm embrace of her mother lulled her to sleep.

* * *

She woke from her nap to wide, wonder-filled eyes and tiny hands brushing her hair. The toddler, Celeste stared straight into her alert eyes and said, "I like you hawr."

It was the first time Emma had heard the two-year-old speak. "Thank you," she mumbled. "I like yours too." She gave the girl a small pat.

Celeste simply giggled.

Emma watched as the toddler climbed up next to her. Celeste grabbed a strand lightly and asked, "Ca' I bwaid?"

Before Storybrooke, Emma could honestly say she didn't like kids. The young, naive children that she usually saw on the street...they reminded her of what she never really had. If not for Henry, Emma would have brushed the girl off and let her cry. It would have been a good lesson, if a bit harsh...

But looking at Celeste, the girl reminded her of Henry. Eyes full of hope, seeking adventure. Curiosity sparkling with every breath. "Sure," Emma smiled. "Let me sit up first, okay?"

The girl squealed with joy.

Her hair would end up tangled in a mass of messy braids, of that Emma was sure, but instead of worrying, she let her mind wander as she allowed the two-year-old to play with her hair.

She instantly went back to Henry. He was...the best part of her, and she had no part in raising him. She wished he had, but she would never regret giving him up.

Her life had been a mess at that point in time, she couldn't have taken care of him. Even if she had the resources and stability to raise him...well she wasn't too sure she could have done a good job.

Emma didn't regret giving Henry up. She did regret that until recently, she hadn't been in his life.

Celeste's happy cheer broke her out of her thoughts.

Her hair was a mess, but she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "I think you need practice," she teased lightly.

"Nuh-uh," Celeste pouted. "You like!"

Emma laughed and soon enough allowed herself to engage the toddler in a game of make believe. It had been a long time since she actually felt that _magic_ of a child's innocence. A feeling so warm and forgiving that it could wash away the pains of the world for just a moment. Not even Henry could bring that feeling out of her, but spending time with the mischievous kid rated a close second.

She felt a brief shuddering pull in the air around her, Emma had no idea what it meant, but she was sure that was the Tradition. Frowning, Emma looked over her recent thoughts. Had the Tradition caused her mood swings?

No. Not really. Everything she had done today was her. All the emotions and desires she usually bottled up and shoved in the corner had wormed their way out.

If the Tradition had been involved in any way...it was probably what made her more open.

No, now that she thought about it, that hum and pull was something else entirely.

Celeste yawned, and crawled back into Emma's bed. "Night, night," she mumbled, falling asleep against the wall.

With the kid asleep, Emma began to follow the pull.

Looking back, she kind of wish there'd be a baby to spoil in the future...

* * *

She ended up in the kitchen where she found Snow and Elena prepping for dinner.

"Emma?" Snow blinked. "Did you need something?"

She shook her head. "I was just following the pull," she replied. "Any idea why the Tradition suggests I be here?"

The Godmother paused. "I could be cast in the role of the home owner. The Owl probably told you this, but staying in a supposedly empty house usually brings in the owner of the house back in a rather foul mood. Usually you'd be harassed for trespassing, and put to work to atone for some grievance your presence caused..."

"The Tradition called me down here to make dinner?" Emma deadpanned.

Elena shrugged. "If it did or not is hard to say. I'm simply offering you the most likely explanation."

Snow snorted lightly. "Well, you're allowed to help or do nothing," she threw in. "Whatever makes you feel better."

Smiling, Emma picked up a knife. Doing something always made her feel useful. She wasn't the best cook, but she had plenty of practice with prepping ingredients.

* * *

Night rolled in and Emma sat outside gazing at the brilliant stars. She had never seen so many stars, not even in Storybrooke. It was beautiful. Soft starlight dancing abound with wisps of pale purple clouds weaving through them. Beautiful and calming.

A soft shuffle caught her attention. It was Elena.

"I thought that too," she began. "When I started my training, the topic of love came up and I felt that being a Godmother was a blessing for taking me away from my awful step-mother and a curse to never find love."

"But you found it," Emma pointed out.

Elena smiled. "I turned him into an ass for nearly running me over with his horse."

Emma snorted.

"And I was playing the part of the old lady down on her luck," she added.

Emma hummed her interest. "So, what happened?"

"He learned his lesson and," Elena smiled, "about true love...your mother hit the nail on the head. I denied it, wanted to run away from it...but it worked out in the end."

"So it's a never give up hope kind of thing?"

"Not at all!" Elena grinned. "I made it happen. _I_ took the Tradition and _told_ it not to mess with me. _I_ bent the path set before me to my will and _made_ my happy ending. Alexander helped a little of course," she added playfully, "mostly by learning his lesson properly...and becoming a true Champion."

Emma turned her gaze back to the stars. "I'm not sure I want that kind of love anymore...I'm good as long as I have Henry...but hope sounds nice."

They sat there for a moment longer.

"Get some sleep, Emma," the Godmother spoke kindly. "Tomorrow we start your magic lessons."

Emma made a face. Well at least it wasn't like she was special when it came to magic or anything, right?

* * *

"Now, a Godmother's spells are usually guided by the Tradition itself. It is rather easy to allow the Tradition to put the spells to your lips and invoke what it desires," Elena paused and looked straight at Emma. "Don't," she punctuated seriously. "For a Godmother, magic is easy when it follows Tradition and difficult when it is opposed to Tradition. However, in all cases you need to be careful with your words."

Emma frowned in concentration. "What does that mean?"

"Do not tempt the Tradition to put your claims to the test. Claiming _anything_ with words like always or never, maybe even impossible...unless the Tradition places you as unimportant, it will put that statement to the test."

Emma made a face.

"Yes, I know," Elena cut in. "Your parents finding each other so often is why your mother is favored by the Tradition...it actually likes her, which is good and bad..."

"How bad?" Emma asked.

"Just a bit of trouble here and there. She has the mark of a Hero, a bit different than a Champion, but much the same," Elena concluded. "Now back to the magic.

"You'll be able to use any spells the way any other mage can. Potions, amulets, charms, talismans, and enchantments are all at your disposal. What separates a Godmother from an ordinary witch is our invocations."

"Invoking the Tradition?" Emma guessed.

With a nod, the Godmother conjured a slate board and some chalk. "Yes. There are many ways to invoke the Tradition. Sorcerers tend to use long winded and rather useless means that use up much of their power and leave large loop-holes. I usually just ask for what I need."

Emma blinked. "Wait a second, didn't you just say to be careful with my words?"

"Of course," Elena laughed. "The Tradition is fickle, but consistent, a contradiction that is best understood in relation to stories. Emma, most of the everyday spells you'd need have been cast so many times by so many people - both good and evil - that the Tradition _remembers_ them rather well."

"So asking is okay for the small things?"

"Yes. The Tradition is always watching for the best paths to take. Granted the best paths are not always best for the people on them," Elena paused. "If you need a Great Work, something like say transforming a dragon into a human, you need to be very careful. Delicate, obscure, new, those require intense focus, lest the Tradition twist your intent into a curse."

"Makes sense," Emma agreed. "So the everyday stuff is easy and the big stuff needs attention. How do I _use_ magic?"

Elena blinked. "Well there are rituals, spells, incantations and invocations. Rituals require the most set up and are, quite frankly, useless. Spells are incantations that have been shortened into a word or two for quick casting. They are rather rigid and are more for battle and quick healing than anything else. As a Godmother, I rarely use either method.

"Incantations are in a sense a contract with the Tradition. Most are in poems or rhymes so that they are easy to remember. Simple edits to an incantation will allow for major changes in the result. I use these most often for official functions.

"Lastly, invocations. This is simply channeling the Tradition. You ask, it will give. Everything else I have previously mentioned will guide the Tradition to your desired result."

"So I just say what I want? What about the whole price thing?" Emma asked. She was pretty sure Rumpelstiltskin had a whole lecture about magic always coming with a price.

Elena smiled. "The price is paid most often by the Tradition. Everyone has a limited piece of the Tradition attached to them. When a Godmother works her magic, it is usually powered by the hero or heroine we are guiding. Anyone other than a Godmother requires a token of personal value or the hero's life to obtain enough magic to work a proper spell. Any other 'price' comes from specific ingredients and the caster's pool of magic."

"Alright," Emma sighed. "I think I got it, what now?"

"Now? Now we practice," Elena concluded warmly.

* * *

**A/N: Elena-style magic is way easier to learn than most others. Emma got lucky there...world building is hard. Or rather world meshing...**

**Anyways next up, Mulan's side of this training adventure! It's half written, so it should be out soon.**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Warrior Song**

Mulan awoke before dawn, alert and cautious. Instinctively, she listened for movement, for danger of any kind, and found nothing that sounded like her camp with Phillip. Then she remembered, something strange had happened. She opened her eyes and found herself on a conjured bed.

She stretched and donned her armor with little noise, and snuck out of the cottage for her morning sets. First came the draw and sheathe drill, where she focused on speed. This task demanded her full attention, as it was her weakest skill.

It was also the skill that haunted her.

Each draw reminded her of her lost love. Each shwing! that sounded reminded her that if she was seconds faster, she could have saved him, or if she was seconds slower she would have joined him.

She would never fumble again.

Next came the stances and shadow fights. They blurred together in her mind. She focused on her form, following the strict instructions that echoed with remnants of her past. And though it hurt, and though the pain resonated with a mourning cry deep in her heart, Mulan forced herself to remember them.

She forced herself to honor them all.

The sun began to paint the sky in purples and pinks. Daybreak neared, and work would soon begin. In the distance, she could hear the birds greeting each other. Most of them said "Hey, over here!" "Here, here!" "Hey, hey, hey!" or similar attention seeking calls. It was unintelligent, repetitive, and very annoying.

She missed the birdsong already.

With a sigh, Mulan sheathed her sword and began her cool downs. She'd go inside and make her favorite tea. Hopefully they'd wake up soon, she didn't have time to waste.

* * *

She stared at her tea, watching as the steam rose and curled into the air. Mulan tried not to think of leaving Phillip and his true love to wander the forest alone. It was a dangerous place since the Curse, but she had faith in her friend.

She did not have much faith in her current companions.

Mulan liked Snow White, admired her strength and fortitude. Snow was a great shot too. By circumstance and consequence, she trusted Emma and Snow - even if she had been reluctant to follow them.

She did not trust the others. In fact if not for learning that Emma's Mary Margret was Snow White, she probably wouldn't have trusted any of them at all.

Then again, they had brought that child. That small, young little girl. Why? What purpose did she serve?

A reason to trust them?

Mulan frowned. If they wanted her trust, they would have to prove their worth. Mulan would give them the benefit of the doubt, but she would watch them, thoroughly.

A shout broke through the cabin, and she hurried to the source. What she found was Snow White bemoaning the growth of her hair. She watched for a moment as the Champion and Godmother exchanged a glance.

"Mulan, follow me," Alexander commanded. "We'll see where you are and where we need to go."

* * *

Meanwhile, Phillip and Aurora returned to the refugee camp run by Lancelot. Phillip was excited to introduce his true love to everyone, especially the knight that helped him find her.

Aurora wasn't.

She didn't like the crowd, they stared at her, calculating her worth and deeming her useless. They compared her to the warrior she had seen with Phillip. The one who went off with those two strange women she thought she knew.

Aurora didn't like it here, but Phillip did. He talked and smiled at old friends and occasionally turned to her as if he was expecting someone else.

_Probably Mulan._

They were only friends, she reminded herself often. And that was true. The warrior and her Phillip were just friends, but it hurt to see that expectant look shift into sadness whenever he turned to her.

Maybe she wasn't a warrior, but she knew more about magic than most! Growing up with fairies did that. Maybe she had the answers, if only someone would ask the questions.

Aurora returned her attention to the conversation, subtly hinting for a new topic. Phillip had already told his friend about the two strangers, and that Mulan had left with them...

She just had an odd feeling.

Luckily, Phillip had no idea about that odd force that compelled his friend to leave. Aurora didn't know why that was lucky, but she knew talking about _that_ was bad news.

Even the slightest hint towards that idea sent shivers down her spine.

* * *

"Excellent," that was the first word spoken in the field that morning, and he filled it with every bit of his joy and conviction. "A wonderful warm up! I'm glad you have proper training in the sword. You have no idea how many born Champions go through their first quests knowing nothing but how to stab his enemies."

Mulan nodded, winded, but smiling. Her teacher was _good_, she would learn much from him.

"Now then," he continued. "Do you know when you enchanted that blade?"

"What do you mean?" Mulan asked. She had never enchanted anything. "This sword had been in my family for generations."

Alexander frowned, thinking furiously. Then he understood.

"When was the first time you found out your blade was special?"

Her eyes clouded with guilt as she remembered.

* * *

She fumbled for her sword.

Red bolts of fire soared past them. "Retreat! Sorcerer!" The shouts still echoed through her mind. Someone tugged on her sleeve, tried to pull her along, but he gave up and bolted.

Just like the rest of them.

The sorcerer sent his flames everywhere, tearing down her comrades and ignoring her completely.

Because she was a woman.

So she stood there frozen, angry. Her grip tightening, blood pulsing. Her love. Her Shang dead at the hand of that man.

He died and the sorcerer dared to laugh at her. Dared to ignore her fury!

He dared to hurt those she considered friends!

It happened so fast she barely noticed she had drawn her sword. She charged in anger, swinging it blindly, deflecting fireballs and spells. Stabbing the panicked wizard in the heart, twisting the blade to _force the life out_.

Her blade deflected magic, and she had found out too late.

He was gone and she was nothing.

The only man who _truly_ respected her, loved her was dead.

She was lost.

* * *

"If I had known sooner..." Mulan whispered.

Alexander stood. "I'll be blunt," he decided. "You could have done nothing to save him."

Mulan's head snapped up, angry, mostly at herself. "I could have!"

Alexander shook his head. "Mulan, this blade is filled with your magic. In that moment, your anger gave this blade the ability to deflect magic."

Her grip tightened. "How? How would you know?"

"One of my gifts. I can see magic," he told her.

"Can you teach me?"

"No. Not that," Alexander shrugged. "Perceiving magic is a gift. You are either born with it, or are given it. It cannot be taught or acquired any other way."

Mulan nodded, "What about everything else?"

"I'll do my best," he agreed. "But first, more tests!" He readied his blade and gave her a nod.

Never again would her friends die because she was weak. Never again would she lose someone she loved.

With a determined shout she swung at him.

* * *

She sat on the grass feeling drained, but her muscles sang their elation. It was a good work out, an excellent spar.

Alexander brought out the sword Emma had decided on wearing with a large grin. "Your friend tells me she's a novice to the blade," he announced. "So we'll start by learning the subtleties of imbuing a weapon with magic."

He sat the sword in her lap. "First draw the blade and think of what you want it to do."

She tried, but her focus failed, and the sword glided out without change.

So she tried again, but what did she want?

"I don't know what to do," she admitted.

Alexander frowned. "Use your imagination. What would make this sword better?"

Mulan took a breath. Fire. That was the first thought that came to her. She pictured the edge dancing with flames and drew the sword.

The edge glowed white and warped under the heat.

"Ah," Alexander suppressed a laugh. "I see you've got the idea easy enough...well I guess we'll go over purging your magic from a weapon. Then we'll go over useful and useless enchantments..."

* * *

Aurora watched as the sun set on the camp, a worried frown etched across her face. The magic of the forest felt different, lighter. As if a great weight had been taken from her.

And yet she could not fight this odd feeling. Something was very wrong.

Lancelot and her Phillip were still talking. About Mulan and those strangers. He promised to leave her out of the conversation, and she was sure he had no inkling of why Mulan had left them.

Aurora didn't like it here at all, and she was grateful they would set out to search for her kingdom in the morning.

She'd be glad to get away, happy to be free of the stares. Away from those that judged so quickly. Aurora was a princess who grew up in these woods. She knew of finery and foraging. They knew nothing about her...

She stared out into the sunset, completely unaware of the lone figure slipping into the forest.

* * *

This time, Mulan woke to see Snow sitting at the table. In her hands was a cup of tea, and from what Mulan could smell, it was her's.

"Good morning," Snow greeted softly. She looked a bit lost, maybe sad. Mulan assumed she missed her prince.

Mulan nodded. "Good morning."

They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say.

"I miss them," Snow spoke suddenly.

"Your husband?" Mulan asked politely.

Snow nodded. "And my grandson, and our friends..." She trailed off and looked back at her tea. "You?"

Mulan sighed. "Phillip was a good companion, a great fighter. I do miss his company, but there is no one I need return to."

Snow looked out the window to hide her pity, and silence loomed again.

* * *

It wasn't fair at all that he had been sent out on foot when those royals had arrived on horseback. What had taken them a day, maybe two, had taken him nearly five.

If his sour mood was not enough torment for the local wildlife, the angry yell that accompanied his passing the same tree for the twenty-seventh time pushed the remaining creatures over the edge. Quiet filled the clearing that looked quite a bit like a ready-made camp. He sat himself on a log and took a swing from his flask.

There was no doubt there was magic in the forest, probably a kind that usually allowed for easy travel. He had heard plenty of tales from the refugees, heartless or not, their stories were true enough.

_"Let Forest guide you," one of the elders had spoken grandly. "If you ever lose your way or forget where you're supposed to go, the Forest will take you to where you are meant to be. Or else you might as well be lost."_

Would the forest guide him? He didn't know. But honestly, if walking in a straight line - guided by the stars no less! - led him in circles, wandering aimlessly might very well take him where he needed to go.

* * *

Mulan watched warily as the Godmother led her into the woods. She had watched Emma do this yesterday, and the princess came back mumbling about streams of colors. Mulan knew right away what happened.

Somehow, Emma had been given the ability to see magic.

Alexander had told her that Champions rarely received that gift, but it was a staple skill for any Godmother. She wondered why Elena was taking her to the fae, but she trusted them enough not to voice it.

"Stay here, I'm going to cast the 'All Forests Are One' spell. It'd be better if you didn't move," Elena's tone did not scold or jest, it was a simple matter if fact. Mulan understood.

It was...different, watching someone preform magic that wasn't trying to kill her.

The Godmother took out a staff Mulan had rarely seen her use, and made a swift flick as if she tossed something into the air. Elena muttered words and magic swirled about her. Mulan couldn't see it, but the presence of magic was unmistakable.

In its sheath, her sword hummed unappreciatively.

The magic grew denser, and it became harder to breathe. Elena struck the forest floor three times with the staff, and Mulan could barely catch the "just as yesterday, please," that ended the tornado of magic.

Elena nodded, obviously approving her work. "Come along then, Mulan. We're expected soon."

They began to walk again, and slowly the trees changed. The trees now stood in twisty waves, as if they danced through the forest. The underbrush parted into neat paths and fairies of all sorts darted through them.

Then she could not pay attention to anything but the regal figure before her. Instinctively, she knew him to be the Fairy King.

"This is Mulan," Elena's voice barely registered in her clouded mind. "She is a born Champion here for her test."

She did not know if he spoke, but he met her eyes and smiled. His hand brushed her hair and he pressed _something_ against her forehead. Then the woods returned to normal.

"What was that?" Mulan asked, noting a bemused look on the Godmother's face.

Elena blinked. "It seems you have already passed your test. The King simply gave you his blessing..." She trailed off and sighed. "This is a good thing. It means you'll have an easier time with the fair folk."

"Am I going to be seeing magic?" Mulan asked warily.

Elena shook her head. "That's usually a gift from the Queen. This is simply a blessing."

Mulan wasn't sure if she was grateful or not. She didn't want to train herself to cope with a new sense, but it would have been nice to tell if things or people were cursed...

Well she'd worry about that later. For now, it was best just to prepare for the next part of their quest.

* * *

A week was _not_ enough time to learn everything, but it was enough for the three Questers to learn what they needed to, grow a little, and be prepared for the tasks ahead. Unfortunately, time was running short for everyone, and Emma hated every day that kept her away from Henry. So they all packed up and said good bye to the small, homey cabin.

Elena passed Emma a small satchel. "Here," she began nervously, "I've packed you a few things that will be useful. The most important things are the small journal-like book and the mirror. If you need anything, call for Lina. She's a mirror-servant apprentice, and assigned to your mirror. She'll connect you to me as soon as I'm available. The book is connected to my library...be careful."

Emma nodded. "I will, at least I got the hang of things right?"

"We'll do just fine," Snow stated firmly. "I believe in us, and I'm pretty sure we'll be done with this mess soon." Mulan gave a confident nod in reply.

The Godmother smiled. "I know. I just - be careful of who you meet next. Quests generally have tasks and challenges that will get in the way. You've met your guide and your helpful source...there's only so many roles left..."

"I know, I know," Emma sighed. "I have to be careful with who to trust. _Trust me_. That will _not_ be a problem."

Snow couldn't help but giggle.

"After this quest come see me. I'll do my best to get you both home," Elena reminded them softly.

The small family climbed into their carriage. "Remember, when all this is over, call me back for more lessons!" Alexander shouted cheerfully. He had no doubt he'd see them all again.

They watched the carriage fly off and turned to each other with ready hearts. "Off we go?" Tawny asked.

"Yes, let's."

* * *

There was a tower in the middle of the forest. For what gods blessed reason would there be a bloody tower in the middle of the forest? No door, no ladder, just _one_ window. He sighed. "That's the last time I listen to gossip," he muttered. "No point in sticking around then."

He left the clearing, unknowingly setting off a perimeter spell set by a rather green witch that resided in the tower.

"Well now," her voice curled with curious glee, "I thought it would take some time for me to find a heart." Her lips curled into a careful smile. "I'm rather lucky, aren't I?" She asked her newest pet.

She still needed to find the others, so she'd have to harvest his heart a bit later. It wouldn't do to have one of her ingredients constantly attacking her...

Still, it felt wonderful to take something off her list.

"Now if only I could find a baby with the proper lineage...such a shame my baby sister had to cast her curse...the little princess would have been _perfect_..."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so world building should be done...plot stuff comes next, or maybe a look into Storybrooke. It should be fun...**

**Please let me know how I'm doing, and thanks for reading!**


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